Harry Potter Drabbles and Short Fiction
by Jalen Strix
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short fiction inspired by the Hogwarts is Home livejournal community. Many characters and genres will likely be making an appearance, though drama and humor are likely the most common genres.
1. Kinship

**Kinship**

Some events in Albania.

* * *

"_Won't you let me in?_" hissed the pleasantly sibilant voice. It wasn't the voice of any serpent she had encountered here before, but carried a tone of enticement and command that she found irresistible.

She acquiesced, and felt a presence like obsidian scales slipping through her long curving body, bringing a satisfyingly cool power with it.

"_Would you like us to remain like this?_"

"_Yes_."

"_Good. I am called Voldemort. And you?"_

She undulated with pleasure._"Nagini."_


	2. Native Proficiency

_These have sprung from the delightful livejournal community Hogwarts Is Home. Prompts are available in many different sub-communities there, and I thought I'd collect the ones I'm fond of here. Many different characters and genres will likely make their appearances here._

* * *

**Prompt: Ministry cubicle jobs**

**Title: Native Proficiency**

Mary Cattermole closed her eyes, pressing her palms to her forehead. They had told her apprenticing with the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee would give her an excellent foothold into the Ministry, and with her muggle-born cultural knowledge, why, she was just what they needed.

Boy, did they ever.

She quietly approached her mentor. "Sir? I don't think this will work for explaining the broomstick joyriding incidents. UFOs are not a typical explanation to the average muggle."

"What? They're clearly unidentified flying objects for muggles."

"Yes, I know. But trust me – try something more along the lines of unannounced weather balloons."


	3. Inflection Point

**Inflection Point**

_Ravenclaw Michael Corner comes to a decision during a DADA class session with Amycus Carrow._

* * *

"You're doing it wrong, boy. Again!"

Amycus Carrow's voice was an omnipresent whining buzz of incompetence. Not for the first time, Michael Corner seethed. _An utter travesty of Defence Against the Dark Arts._

A refrain from a song he had once heard at Anthony Goldstein's house whispered in his mind. It was meant for a ceremony of exodus and celebration and gratitude, but the main word,_ Dayenu_, had been translated as_ It would have been enough_, and every passing day was more than enough of the utter wretchedness that DADA had become.

If Carrow had only taken over Defence, replacing the truly proficient Professor Snape, but not been completely incompetent himself..._Dayenu_.

If Carrow had only been incompetent, but not focused on offense to the complete neglect of defence, thereby ensuring N.E.W.T. failure..._Dayenu_.

If Carrow had only ensured N.E.W.T. failure, but not forced his own repugnant views upon them..._Dayenu_.

If Carrow had only forced his views upon them, but not been a pugnacious cruel beast that exulted in locking up first-years..._Dayenu_.

If Carrow had only been a beast, but not constantly cackled out the details of how the first-year had sobbed through the night, whimpering for her father, her mother, anybody to save her, please save her..._Da. Ye. Nu._

Carrow's latest taunting rendition of the first-year's pleas made something in Michael harden and break. It may have been rationality (_cowardice_) that kept him away from the Astronomy tower last year when he felt the call of the D.A., but the time for patient caution was clearly past.

A small, vaguely lovelorn voice in his mind murmured,_ What would Ginny do?_

The answer crystallized with a brilliant snap, and Michael began to contemplate how precisely to rescue the first-year.


	4. Things That Don't Begin

_Author's Note: This was in response to a hh-sugarquill challenge to write a short vignette without using the letter R._

**Things That Don't Begin**

_Rowena loses a bet to Salazar, and contemplates her fellow Hogwarts founder._

* * *

She signed the note "_owena _avenclaw", and thought decidedly unkind thoughts of Sal. How she could have lost that bet was unfathomable to begin with (who would have thought the giant squid was capable of _that_?), but the penalty was especially devious and vexing. Not to use that alphabetic symbol at all, all _week_ \- honestly! How Sal, though. He was undoubtedly enjoying it immensely, since it subtly inhibited day-to-day activity without being an obvious nuisance.

He was so awfully intelligent. And deft. She had thought this often, noting how he had so many aspects she valued in a companion. She undoubtedly loved them all, but Sal did have a special place all his own due to that canniness. And his ambition was such an excellent balance to the intent love of knowledge she held.

They could have made such a potent combination, the two of them. They still could someday...

_Best leave those thoughts alone._


	5. Life Is

**Life Is**

_Sirius's decision to go to the Department of Mysteries._

* * *

You didn't leave Azkaban unscathed, and that was a fact. It didn't matter how much time you had spent in your Animagus form - Azkaban left its scars, especially after twelve years. A moody disposition was already a Black trait, true, but the deepening depression bouts were Azkaban's special little gift to Sirius.

Of course, it didn't help that he was cooped up in this forsaken place, usually with only that blasted elf and his mother's portrait for company. Enough to depress anyone, really.

He gazed fitfully into the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, ignoring the humming presence of the other Order members.

Which is why he was the first to notice Snape's greasy head pop through.

"Sirius," Snape said, with just a hint of a sneer (the git), "please get the others. I fear Mr. Potter has fallen prey to a dangerous ruse."

Sweet adrenaline flowed through Sirius as he called the others over.

Kingsley spoke first. "What precisely has happened, Severus?"

Words washed over Sirius...something about the Department of Mysteries and James - Harry - having been tricked, and how Sirius should remain here -

His attention snapped back like a slingshot. "I bloody well will _not_ stay here!"

Something unreadable flickered across Snape's eyes. "I'm afraid it's the idea of you being in peril that mobilized Mr. Potter to recklessness in the first place. Safer for you to remain here and warn Dumbledore."

It was a perfectly sensible reason. And the sour bastard knew it.

Sirius glowered at the fireplace after Snape left, and was still in a fine and focused sulk when the rest of the Order members followed.

Alone _again_. Useless _again_.

Kreacher slinked behind him, muttering insults.

Sirius's lips twitched up. Someone had to warn Dumbledore, true, but that someone didn't have to be Sirius.

He bounded after the elf, who had stopped to stare morosely at the covered portrait of his mother. "Kreacher."

Cold eyes glanced up at him.

"When Dumbledore gets here, tell him what's happened."

"And where is perfidious master who broke his mother's heart going?"

Sirius's smile flashed full and wide. "I'm off to storm the castle with the others."

"_Sirius_." His mother's voice wafted out from behind the curtain, softened from her typical deafening shriek.

It was such an extraordinary occurrence that he stopped. "Yes, mother?"

"Don't leave. You may be despicable and your views abhorrent, but you're the last male scion of Black, and it's not safe. Don't leave us." Unspoken was the half-desperate _again_.

He stared at her for a moment. "A heartwarming plea, mother, truly. But let me share with you something I once read: _'Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature...Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.'_ And you know, that girl - who was deaf and blind and a Muggle - understood it exactly." A glittering grin stretched ear to ear as he sketched a mock bow. "Toodle-loo, mother, Kreacher! Don't wait up."


	6. Legerdemain

**Legerdemain**

_An AU post-war snapshot with Hermione and Draco._

* * *

"This," she slurred, "is _not_ an Oculus potion, Maco Dralfoy. The color," she hiccuped, "is all wrong. Not orange at all."

"Not even a bit orange," he agreed.

"It's _green_. And," she blinked hard, "clearly alcoholic."

He grinned, letting the liquid slide along his tongue. "Highly alcoholic. It's got wormwood, though. But also fennel and anise."

"What've you had me drink?"

"Family recipe for _la feé verte_."

"Probably not good for counterac-counter-count-... stopping the 'junctivitis curse."

"True. Much better at closing eyes than opening them."

She blinked slowly at him, struggling to focus. "You're a rat scoundrel and I hate you sometimes."

He leaned in close to her, smiling rakishly. "I know. Love you, 'Mione."

She made a face at him before smiling back lopsidedly. "Love you too, scoundrel."


	7. Plans

**Plans**

_After the war, Hermione happens upon Ron and Harry's design for a new Hogwarts emblem._

_Author's Note: Written for the a Random TV Tropes challenge at the Hogwarts is Home lj community, where I drew "Everything is Better with Penguins"_

* * *

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "You've taken it too far. You can't show the rest of them that."

"What, 'Mione?" hiccuped Ron. "It's very unified. Aren't you all for house unity?"

"'Sides," slurred Harry, "it's very cute."

Hermione rolled her eyes, noting the large empty bottle of Ogden's set between them. "And the product of far too much fire whisky." She held up the redesigned Hogwarts emblem, now devoid of lion, badger, eagle, and snake. Admittedly, the rock hopper penguin in the center _did _look jaunty. "At the very least, you need to update the motto."

"Wha'?" said Ron, echoed closely by Harry.

"_Pinguinus dormiens numquam titillandus_. Or perhaps _Spheniscus_ instead of _pinguinus_, since the Greek-inspired variant captures the shape appropriately and the zoology term for penguin is _sphenisciformes_."

Ron blinked slowly at her.

"How do you even know these things?" asked Harry.

She shrugged, still scrutinizing the emblem. "I read. Now about the color balance..."


	8. Interim

Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Well, it's clearly off the beaten track."

Buckbeak snorted.

"What? Beggars can't be choosers. And surely there's good hunting for both of us in these woods."

The sound Buckbeak made was distinctly derisive.

"I didn't know hippogriffs could express that particular emotion so succinctly."

Buckbeak preened, and then pawed the ground.

"Look, it's not ideal, but we need a place to hole up for a bit." A sudden thought wedged in his mind. "Bit small for you, eh?"

Buckbeak's sigh was eloquent.

"Hey, man..." called a rather dreamy voice from inside the vehicle. "What's going on out there?"

Sirius froze in sudden panic, then recovered. He put on his best pathetic voice (not difficult as the years in Azkaban still clung to him). "Help me...please...lost...thirsty..."

Buckbeak wisely remained silent and immobile.

The door to the decrepit contraption swung open, followed by a concerned face, a hand holding a battered flask, and a cloud of blue smoke. "Whoa, you okay? How'd you get out here, man?"

The heady, wafting fumes made Sirius's eyes cross briefly. Buckbeak chose that moment to cough softly.

The man's eyes swiveled slowly to Buckbeak. "Dude, I must have just smoked some really good stuff..." He smiled muzzily, and turned back to Sirius. "Here, man, have some water."

Sirius mentally gaped at the man's nonchalance upon confronting a hippogriff and then did a quick deduction involving the vehicle and the cloud of smoke. He took the offered flask and gulped greedily for a few moments. "Thank you. I'm Sirius. Was out on a hike, and got lost."

The man nodded. "My name's Ziggy Moonshine." He paused for a moment. "Where's your gear?"

Sirius blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Your hiking gear, man. Did you lose it?"

"Oh, uh, yes. Fell down a ravine."

Ziggy seemed to consider this for several moments, and then smiled beatifically. "That's why your clothes are so torn and dirty."

"Yes. Uh, I don't suppose you have any food you could spare?"

"Sure, man. Come in. Got the good stuff - Nutella, twinkies, Oreos, goldfish, pop tarts...you can totally share my stash."

Sirius wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he started to move towards Ziggy. Buckbeak chose that moment to let out an irritated cry.

Ziggy paused, staring directly at Buckbeak while Sirius froze and muttered, "Steady, mate, steady..."

At last, Ziggy shook himself once, and smiled again before turning back towards the vehicle's entrance. "Some really good, strong stuff that was, man..."

Sirius shot Buckbeak a quelling look, and followed Ziggy inside.


	9. The Things We Do

**The Things We Do**

_Hermione asks Ron for help. Written for the challenge of Hermione's New Year's resolution._

* * *

"Ron, sweetheart, could you do me a favor?"

I glanced up warily. Hermione's voice had that curiously honeyed tone to it that I'd come to recognize and approach with extreme caution. "Yes, love?"

"Could you open up Limus's _Charmes_ to page 389 and read me the entry about toughening charms?"

I glanced at the table in front of her, where the book lay. "'Mione-my-love...is there a reason you can't open the book that's right in front of you and read it yourself?" At the telltale flash in her eyes, I hurried on. "You can read much faster silently than I can read out loud."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I just...need you to do this for me. Can you..._please_...read me that entry, darling?"

I blinked, then crossed my arms. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

She blushed (rather beautifully I always thought) and stared hopefully at me with those big brown eyes. Which she knew I always melted at.

I mustered my resistance and raised an eyebrow. "Heart-warming, 'Mione-my-love, but no. 'Fess up first."

"Fine!" She threw up her hands and looked down, still blushing furiously. "It's my New Year's resolution."

A few heartbeats passed. I drummed my fingers against my arm. "Which is to get me to read things to you? Seems a bit specific, love. And rather tortuous for us both." I paused, gauging her barely contained ire. One more jibe ought to do it. "Didn't know you went in for that kind of thing."

"Gah!"

Bingo.

"Ronald, if you _must_ know, my resolution is to try to get information from sources other than books."

I tilted my head as understanding crept in. "But you need to know about forgotten toughening charms from the eighteenth century - I won't even bother to ask why - and that book has the answer. And I'm here."

"Quite. If you read it to me, technically I'm getting the information from you. And you aren't a book."

"Technically. Mmhmm." I grinned. "'Mione, my wily love, sometimes I think you should have been in Slytherin."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "They wouldn't have had me because of my heritage."

"They would now. Post-war wisdom and all."

She smiled. "We _did _do good, didn't we? Now, enough stalling. Are you going to read to me or not?"

I sat down across from her, twining my left hand in hers, and picked up Limus's _Charmes_ with my right. "Page 389. _Charmes for Toughening. As a natural opposite to charmes that soften_-"

"I love you, Ron."

"I love you too, 'Mione." I lifted her hand and gently kissed it. "Now stop interrupting. _As a natural opposite to charmes that soften_..."


	10. You Don't Say

**You Don't Say**

_Hermione has a surprising answer to a question from Slughorn. Written for the challenge "called on in class when you don't know the answer" combined with Veritaserum ingestion._

* * *

Hermione licked her lips, remembering the odd not-water taste on the rim of the drink Ron had offered her at lunch, just before Potions with Slughorn.

Slughorn cleared his throat. "Who knows the core aspect of Sulphur Vive that makes it react with Sal Ammoniac to produce Panacea?" He winked. "And it isn't sulphur."

_What the bloody hell..._

Heartbeats passed before he turned to her expectantly. "Miss Granger?"

"I should just make something up since no one here - not even _you_, Professor - likely knows the answer anyway."

There was a collective gasp, and Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth.

In sudden gustatory recognition, she leveled an icy stare at Ron. "If you _ever _give me Veritaserum without my permission again, I will _annihilate_ what little reputation you have remaining at Hogwarts."

Ron looked at Harry. "Er, she's saying that under Veritaserum, isn't she?"

"Yes, mate, she is."


	11. Simply Known

**Simply Known**

_Hermione is enlightened by Draco. Slightly AU, given the official series epilogue._

* * *

"Put down the quill and no one gets hurt."

Hermione glanced up at Draco, her lips quirking in a half-smile. "I just need to finish up this one thing-"

"You're going to be more than fashionably late at this rate. More importantly, _I'm_ going to be more than fashionably late as your escort, so collectively _we'll_ be more than fashionably late, and that just won't do at all. We're in the public eye and there are expectations."

She rolled her eyes. "You could simply cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently like a human, you know. The aristocratic circumlocutions give me a headache."

His smile sparkled back at her. "But I _am_ an aristocrat."

She ignored him as she set the quill down, made sure her fingers were free of ink stains, and picked up her clutch. "Why I ever agreed to go to this Ministry thing with you is a mystery."

"My impeccable charm, clearly. Also, Harry and Ron don't know the first thing about high wizarding society, and you needed to make a good impression before the election. Refreshingly calculating of you, really."

"Gah! Stop rubbing it in, Draco."

"Why? I like that side of you. It and I get along famously." He paused, surveying the lines of her pearl-trimmed velvet gown, flowing cape, and delicate vintage necklace with an appreciative eye. His eyes zeroed in on her hands. "'Mione, you can't go like that. As your friend, I tell you these things."

"What are you talking about?"

Exasperation flared in his voice. "This is a white tie event."

"Yes, of course. Hence the ball gown, cape, horrifically expensive jewelry, and clutch."

"Did you miss the bit about opera-length gloves, then?"

"What? Where does it say that? White tie for women is ball gown plus accessories."

He closed his eyes briefly. "Accessories for a ball gown include gloves of the appropriate length_._"

She stared at him for a long moment.

He arched an eyebrow back, waiting.

She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then conjured up a pair of pearl-trimmed black velvet gloves that she slipped on. "Acceptable?"

"Quite."

"Well, this _is_ why I have you. Thanks, Draco."

"Anytime, 'Mione." He extended his hand in a practiced graceful gesture. "Shall we?"

She gave him hers. "Do let's."


	12. Mettle

**Mettle**

_Neville in a crucial moment at the Battle of Hogwarts._

* * *

My head was on fire.

It was surprising, to say the least. I don't know what I'd expected when the Sorting Hat was mashed down on my head by Voldemort's magic, but _head-on-fire_ was lower down the list than, say, _instantly-Crucioed-to-insanity, _given Death Eater history with my family.

On the other hand, it was getting quite toasty.

But then, something happened. There was commotion, shouting, the pounding of hooves, and the roar of multiple battle cries.

_Now, brave child of Gryffindor._

I jolted. I hadn't heard the Sorting Hat's creaky whisper of a voice in seven years. But I felt the Body-Bind curse loosen, and I shook it off like water.

Adrenaline shivered through me. I could do something now. But what?

_Reach inside me._

Ask, and ye shall receive.

I took the smoldering hat off my head and stretched my hand into it. I felt the heft of cold metal grow warm against my skin, and I drew my hand out to see the deep red rubies on a sword hilt.

I knew exactly what this was. Harry had told me about it. Not to mention the conditions for drawing it from the hat.

A wicked grin curved my lips. I had Gryffindor's sword. Those bloody plonkers were _mine._

I heard the virulent hiss before I saw it. Nagini reared in front of me, a winding tower of supple muscle and scaled hatred with glistening fangs.

Strength and clarity of purpose flowed through me like fire whiskey. The stroke preparation was easy, dexterous and fluid as if I'd studied swordplay all my life. The blade sliced through with liquid grace and the snake's head separated from its body like a puzzle piece.

Voldemort's cry of fury was sweet as hell.

I roared "_Dumbledore's Army!_" into the stunned silence and charged forward.


	13. Alignment

**Alignment**

_Narcissa in the moments after Harry whispers that Draco is still alive in Hogwarts Castle. Written for the quote "Oh, where do we begin? The rubble or our sins?"_

* * *

My hand contracted at the Potter boy's exhaled affirmation, my nails digging into the throb of his heart.

The world was officially rubble. The Dark Lord's glorious vision was turning out to be a steaming pile of dragon droppings, with us circling like flies in the bloody flux. And my sins - _our _sins - had been great. Too great to contemplate just now. I pushed them aside, sealing them away as the boy's pulse pounded against my palm.

Draco was _alive_. That was worth everything.

If he was alive, everything else could be fixed. Malfoys were survivors, after all.

I reached inside myself to find the easy poise, dredging the remnants of grace under pressure. It was curiously similar to dealing with the Daily Prophet's barbed questioning from times past...just with far more immediately fatal consequences if things didn't go well.

I swallowed once. "He is dead!" My voice rang clear as a bell with the lie.

Clarity of purpose was a beautiful thing. I would find my Draco again. Lucius and I would find him again, together. And the Potter boy - _Harry _\- would be our path to him.


	14. Oh, Baby Boy

**Oh, Baby Boy**

_Snapshots of moments in the lives of three new sets of parents._

* * *

Arthur Weasley's fingers fluttered around the tiny bundle with its red tufts of hair. "_Molly_," he breathed, "_look what we made._"

"Yes, love." Molly was exhausted. And exuberant. "He's perfect, isn't he?" Her hand drifted up to capture Arthur's and gently place it on the baby's back. "Little Bill."

Arthur paused. "Bill? Not, say, Arthur, Jr?"

"What's wrong with Bill?" It came out as rather more of a snarl than she intended.

Arthur's eyes widened as he swallowed hastily. "Not a thing, my love. Bill Weasley is a right fine name. But..."

"_But_?"

He swallowed again. "Perhaps it ought to officially be William Weasley."

She smiled, patting his fingers. "William Arthur Weasley, then."

Arthur smiled back, brilliant as the sun.

* * *

James Potter burst out the door, hopping up and down as he sang out his joyous news to the world. "I have a _son_! I have a perfect tiny little sooooooooooooooon!"

Lily raised an eyebrow at the resounding crash of the door as she cuddled the baby to her. She half-expected James to leave a smoking trail like the road runner in Looney Tunes. It was good to see him happy, though.

The baby made a small snuffling sound and burrowed deeper into her chest. She smiled and murmured to him, "Harry James Potter, little sweetheart, you _are _perfect." She kissed the softness of his dark baby hair. "And your mama and papa are very, very happy you're here."

Harry opened his eyes at her voice and looked at her. Such big wide green eyes full of absolute trust...and an undeniable spark of James.

She kissed his forehead. "I love you so, baby boy."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy placed his head next to Narcissa's, looking at the tiny blonde head nestled against her breast. "He's perfect, Cissy. Just like his mother."

She turned to brush her lips against his. "Are you sure you don't want his first name to be Lucius? Such a lovely name. It belongs to my favorite man."

He smiled, his lips still savoring hers. "No, my love. This is the way it's done. And Draco Lucius Malfoy is a fine name. Quite dashing."

"Mmmm, just like his father."

"And his mother."

She laughed softly. "Women aren't dashing, Lucius."

"You are." His grey eyes stared into hers, as if trying to memorize their lines and hues. "You're everything, Cissy."

She twined her fingers in his. "_We're_ everything now, my love. The three of us."

He nodded, raising his other hand to stroke the baby's cheek. "Yes, we are."


	15. Subtle Differences

**Subtle Differences**

_A conversation between Gellert and Albus just before their final showdown._

* * *

He was just as beautiful as I remembered, just as wild-eyed and charismatic despite the decades. _Ah, Gellert. Why did it have to be this way? _I could have reached out and touched him, we were so close.

"So, Albus," his voice was soft and suggestive, causing my chest to tighten in memory, "you're sufficiently afraid of me at last."

I swallowed heavily, my throat dry with regret. "No, Gellert, I am at last sufficiently afraid _for _you."

He shook his head. "Albus, Albus..." He rolled my name through his mouth as if to savor it, and then leaned forward, catching my eyes in his. "We were great together. We could be again."

I shut my eyes tight, trying to draw a breath. "_No, Gellert._"

"Albus," the word was a caress, the heat of his presence curling against me, "what happened to Ariana need never happen again. _Never again._ What happened to your father, to your mother...never again_, _Albus."

"Not like this." My voice nearly strangled me coming out. "Not like _this_."

"Then what? You know their destruction was all caused by the same thing and we can change that. We _will _change that." His voice slid across my skin like silk. "As you once convinced me, my dear friend, it's for the greater good."

A cold worm of fear and temptation squirmed through me. I remembered that thought pattern all too well. "But the means we have to use, Gellert…"

His breath was coming faster now, a staccato in my ear. "Look what happens when we leave things in the hands of the incompetent." His hand touched mine, just as warm as I remembered. "And we, Albus, are anything but that. We must do what is best for the wizarding world."

His words rang through me like a bell. I opened my eyes, pressing his hand once with mine before withdrawing it. "Gellert, my friend, there is a difference between what may be best and what _is_ right."

Darkness slammed across his face like a fortress gate. "This is your choice, then?"

"I'm afraid so."

He lifted his chin and stepped back from me, bowing once. "Then so be it. Goodbye, Albus."

I bowed back, desperate longing warring with the resolve running rampant through me. "Goodbye, Gellert."


	16. Your Colours Wrapped Around

**Yours Colours Wrapped Around**

_Albus Dumbledore considers the events to come. Set during the events of Half-Blood Prince, just before he and Harry go after Slytherin's locket. Written for the challenge "You reap what you sow" and inspired by the Sisters of Mercy Song "Colours"._

* * *

My fingers dragged along the ruined shape of my withered hand as I mused on all the things set in motion.

"Thinking the thoughts of the righteous, are you?" Phineas Nigellus Black's voice slapped into my thoughts like a salt wave.

I swiveled to face his portrait. "Whatever do you mean, dear Phineas?"

"You have that intolerable look about you."

I felt the beginnings of a twinkle coming on. This was an old back-and-forth of ours. Phineas didn't have it in him to be kind directly. I managed to steeple my fingers, if a bit awkwardly. "What look is that?"

"The one you get when you think about all your little soldiers marching along, your colours wrapped around them as they step just so like beautiful, dutiful marionettes." He sniffed. "Three parts guilt and one part satisfaction."

I crossed my legs and stretched back in my chair. "How poetic, Phineas. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Well? What about it all then? I can't _abide _that look, Albus."

"Nothing you haven't really heard before. But soon I'll ask little Harry Potter to help me with a rather grueling task, and if all goes well, I'll survive it just long enough to sow maximum confusion to both sides. And if all goes exceedingly well after that, it will be enough to eventually conquer poor, confused Tom."

Phineas sniffed again. "'Poor, confused Tom' seems to be doing rather well for himself."

A twinkle was in full bloom now across my face. "At the moment. But my soldiers, as you called them, follow my instructions so well, even when they don't know it. I have high hopes, Phineas."

"Well, that would be the one part satisfaction. What's the guilt for, then?"

My twinkle abruptly blinked out as the truth scraped its way from my throat. "They'll all suffer so badly along the way. Harry and Severus, especially."

Phineas arched an eyebrow with the barest shimmer of sympathy. "For the greater good, though, isn't it?"

I sighed. "That it is, Phineas. That it is."


	17. Indeed

**Indeed**

_The portrait of Dexter Fortescue bemoans the sorry state of affairs Hogwarts is in during Umbridge's reign._

* * *

It was disgraceful. Utterly disgraceful. I simply couldn't contain myself. "In my day, we most certainly did _not _cut such deals. No, indeed!"

An indistinct mumbling came from somewhere to my right. I forged on, in a fine fettle. "First you deal with them, and then you _become_ just like them - that's what I say! Dis_grace_ful."

The mumbling became a bit more distinct. "Dxxxxx."

"And from a Head Mistress, with the Minister of Magic's approval! Despicable, that's what I say. _Spineless_. Never would have happened in my day. An utter moral decay, that's what it is!" I paused to wipe some spittle that had gathered at the corner of my mouth.

"Dxxtxr!"

Ah, it was someone calling my name. I raised my ear trumpet and turned towards the source of the noise. "Speak up!"

Phineas Nigellus Black looked at me with that long-suffering look of his, one finger pressed to his forehead. "While I appreciate your sentiments, Dexter, you'll notice that we are now quite alone in here. The entire castle portraiture may be able to hear you, but the living can't."

"What are you driving at, Phineas?"

I swear the man sighed. "Perhaps you could save your ranting for when it actually might do some good. Such as when the current Head Mistress is present."

"Ah. I see your point."

"Brilliant, Dexter."


	18. With Lemon

**With Lemon**

_Slightly AU. Charity Burbage decompresses after a visit from Arthur Weasley about Muggle Studies._

* * *

Charity rested her head on her hands, slumped over her desk. She was still in that position when the curt knock came on her door at precisely 3pm. Severus was always punctual.

She waved a hand sloppily at the door to disengage the lock, muttering, "He meant well, he _meant_ well."

Severus arched an eyebrow at her prone form. "Who did?"

"Arthur Weasley."

Severus's snort was remarkably eloquent. He sat down across from her and crossed his legs, waiting.

After a few moments, she raised her eyes blearily to him. "He meant well, I know it."

"Mmm."

"But, Severus, the depth of his ignorance about Muggles is truly astonishing. I can't even begin to describe it to you."

"I'd rather you didn't try."

"The fact that he's in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office is simply...is just…"

"Utterly appalling?"

"Yes."

"Deliciously ironic?"

"That too, I suppose." She sighed. "Severus, you know I love teaching, but, dear God, Muggle Studies is a thankless subject sometimes." She paused. "Though I suppose I don't have to deal with exploding cauldrons as much as you do."

"No, likely not. But the depressingly omnipresent ignorance is similar."

She laughed softly in spite of herself. "And this is precisely why I have you over for tea. You always know just what to say to cheer me up."

"I do have my talents. Would you like to pour or shall I?"


	19. Priorities

**Priorities**

_Draco procrastinates on a Potions assignment._

* * *

"Epic."

Pansy's voice sliced through my thoughts, shattering the intricate sequence of moves I'd been contemplating. "What?"

"Your powers of procrastination. They're almost Gryffindorian."

I felt my face flush as I retreated to our standard banter. "Your words wound me to the quick, Pansy."

She arched an eyebrow, not missing my flaming cheeks for a moment. "Apparently they _do_, Draco." She sat down across from me and leaned over to look at the book I'd been pouring over. "So, the real question is what could _possibly_ cause you to risk Snape's immortal wrath by not leaving enough time to do our Potions essay properly?" She paused, taking in the pictured configurations. "Wizard's chess? Why would-aaaah. Weasley."

I felt my jaw tighten.

"You know, it's quite possibly the only thing he's good at. Oughtn't we leave him something to excel at?"

My mouth dropped open. "Who are you and what have you done with Pansy?"

She flipped me a saucy grin. "Got you. Crush him like a Cornish pixie, Draco. You can crib from my Potions essay if you need to."

I grinned back at her. "You're the best, Pansy."

"Bloody right I am." She blew me a kiss. "Now, study up. Slytherin House's strategic gaming honor demands it."


	20. The Sisters Black

**The Sisters Black**

_Cissy watches Bella and Dromeda argue over how to decorate the Slytherin common room._

* * *

And there went Bella. I couldn't help a faint smile as I watched her argue with the other Slytherins. My older sister Bella was gorgeous, intense, and formidable - a noticeable counterpoint to Dromeda's winsome and inclusive charm - and Bella was used to her sheer force of personality carrying the day.

This time, however, she'd staked out a rather difficult position. No decorations at all in the common room was going to be a tough sell at Christmas time. Dromeda, of course, was using that devastating sarcasm of hers to voice the opposition's demand for flamboyant opulence.

Which would leave _me_ to step in as the diplomat and propose the most sensible solution. Tastefully understated never went out of style. Bella and Dromeda knew this, of course. They agreed with it, in fact.

But the others had been too swept up in ostentation to see it immediately, which is why we'd set up this little show in the first place.

The sisters Black were quite the team.

Bella glared at me over the cries of "Let's ask Cissy!" and Dromeda rolled her eyes. My cue. It was showtime.


	21. No Survivors

**No Survivors**

_Draco considers his position during a meeting of Voldemort and the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor. Written for the prompt "There were thirteen people at the table"._

* * *

There were thirteen people at the table and that epiphany I'd been struggling to have for the past two years came knocking at my mental doors. I suppressed it. Again. This was neither the time nor the place, as my mother would say. She always had an impeccable sense of timing, my mother.

Of course, these days, it was _never _the time or the place to realize things. Far too painful and infinitely damaging. He'd know, for one. And Auntie Bella, she'd know because she was so attuned to Him, they might as well share a brain. That would explain the barely controlled craziness that arced like lightning between them.

Professor Burbage - no, that was too hard. The _woman _let loose a piteous whimper that tore into me like Crucio. I forced blankness into my eyes, letting my own sense of self-preservation surge around me. If I showed any emotion whatsoever, it might well be me up there next. Or Father. Or, God, _Mother_. No matter whose house this was, no matter whose kin we were. It simply didn't matter.

You were either for Him, or you were against Him. And in this proximity, there was only one choice. No choice. _No choice. _

I realized my lips had silently shaped the words when His voice whipped against me. "Young Mr. Malfoy, did you have something to say?"

I could feel Mother's controlled dread next to me, and it goaded me out of blind panic. I resurrected my best sneer, held Professor Burbage's gaze (_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_), and lied through my teeth. "Just that she deserves this. Filthy Muggle-lover."

Auntie Bella's cackle scraped through me as I saw the telltale green flash and watched the light go out of Professor Burbage's eyes.


	22. The Company We Keep

**The Company We Keep**

_An AU Harry-PoV snippet where the battle at Hogwarts did not end well, incorporating the following elements: Voldemort wins, the war drags on, independent Harry, Harry questions Dumbledore, and Petunia realizes things are serious, thereby becoming a decent person._

* * *

In my darker moments, I'm prone to brooding. I'd claim it's a character flaw, but at this point, I'm pretty sure it's a coping mechanism. Hermione would have known.

Hermione would have known and Ron would have understood.

I was fairly sure I was supposed to win, you see. Epic sacrificial death and resurrection, with a bit of bolstering - if ambiguous - conversation from my one-time mentor in between. In the stories, this is immediately followed by utter victory.

Someone unfortunately forgot to tell Voldemort. Maybe he never studied Muggle literature. It'd make sense - the man hates everything Muggle. Clearly it didn't hurt his plans in the slightest. In blissful ignorance, he ran bloody roughshod over us in the battle immediately after my resurrection. There was so much death.

_Was this all according to your plan, Albus? _Dumbledore and I were on a first name basis in my thoughts these days. _Did you know how much death there'd be? How much destruction and horror? Was this the bloody best you could come up with?_

My heart still hurts when I think of Hermione, of Ron, and God, of _Neville_. How he could miss Nagini with Gryffindor's sword is anyone's guess, but miss her he did. She didn't miss him, though. I swear she bit right through his damned chest. I still hear that sickening crunch in my nightmares sometimes.

"Penny for your thoughts, Harry?" Petunia set a cup of tea in front of me and sat down across from me with her own cup.

I started. Despite how much things have changed, it still occasionally takes me by surprise to have Petunia treat me like a human. But...things have changed. "Just thinking about people we've lost."

"Ah."

"Do you think of Vernon much?"

She took a careful sip from her tea. "I try not to."

I pressed my fingers against my forehead. "How do you keep going? Every day, just keep...going."

"I plan for long-term victory, on whatever terms I can get." Her lips twitched in a half-smile. "I've had a lot of practice."

I choked on a soft laugh. "Right." Her original plan of long-term victory had been the utter refutation of all things magical. It'd been going smashingly well, relatively speaking, until Voldemort had targeted me. And then devastated the Ministry, and then Hogwarts, and then started in on the Muggle population at large. She'd lost Vernon to a cadre of Voldemort's followers. It was the stone cold realization that she was all that stood between Dudley and oblivion that shocked her into sensibility.

They call it terrorism in the Muggle world, because they don't know what else to call it. Well, we're sure as hell terrorized. Anyone, anywhere, anytime. Our collective illusion of safety is as shattered as Hogwarts.

Petunia, ever-practical, has changed her long-term goal to Keep Us All Alive And Not Enslaved. It's a fine goal, really. And she's serious about it too. She's been feeding information to MI6 informants about the magical world. They believe her when she tells them the things I tell her because she keeps being right. And Petunia can be amazingly persuasive when she wants to be.

I can see how she's my mother's sister.

I felt Petunia's finger on my cheek suddenly, wiping away a tear. "Buck up, Harry my lad. It could always be worse."

"Could it?"

"Of course. We could have no tea, for one." She patted my shoulder. "Now drink up."


	23. Appreciation

**Appreciation**

_Crookshanks investigates an unexpected package._

* * *

I eyed the small lump waiting demurely at the end of Hermione's bed. This was most certainly _not_ here before.

My girl was still asleep, and would likely remain so for at least another hour. A creature of habit, she was, bless her fuzzy head. It was one of the reasons we got on so well.

I poked at the lump experimentally with my least favorite paw. It didn't move. It could still be a trap set by that wretched rat, though. I didn't like him one bit, and I normally got on with rats. That one just didn't act quite right. I suspected deep subterfuge, but had yet to definitively confirm it. It's why I kept cornering him.

It was a bit of a shame he happened to be the rat of one of Hermione's boys. Made things a touch stroppy between them. But I put safety first. I loved my girl. Even if her taste in boys was somewhat lacking at the moment. She'd grow out of it, that's what Padfoot said.

I sniffed the package. Mmm….was that a bit of kipper?

Oh, _this _would have to be investigated _much _more thoroughly.

* * *

"Ron, are you going to at least _tell_ me what I've done to make you so angry with me?"

He glared back at her, crossing his arms. "It's just basic manners."

"_What _is?"

"If someone gives you a gift, you at least bloody _acknowledge _it, even if you don't like it. Besides," he mumbled, "I thought you liked kippers."

Hermione blinked at him. "I do. But what are you on about? Did you leave me a gift of kippers?"

"Did I...crikey, you really didn't get my present, did you?"

My girl arched an eyebrow in that way she does. "Apparently not."

"But I had it left in your room so you'd see it first thing this morning, just in time for breakfast. How could…" His eye suddenly fell on me. "_You._"

I blinked innocently back and gave my lips a blatant lick.

Hermione scooped me up and nuzzled me. "Ah, Crookshanks, did you make off with Ron's prezzy to me? Naughty cat."

I purred audibly.

Ron glowered. "That cat's a right terror."

"At least you know your present was appreciated. Thanks very much for it, by the by."

He sighed. "Right, sure." He caught my eye, murmuring, "_You win this round, cat._"

I continued purring. _And all other ones, m' boy. _


	24. A Real Friend Will

**A Real Friend Will**

_Hermione does Luna a favor. Written for a drabble challenge involving a transfiguration that went wrong._

* * *

"That," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow, "is _not_ a pen."

"True," agreed Luna, watching the bird let out a rather endearing squawk. "But perhaps partial points, as _penguin _and _pen_ begin with similar syllables?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. "How did I let you convince me to step in as the OWL transfiguration examiner?"

Luna smiled. "Because you knew we needed someone competent and you're always willing to help a friend out?"

"There _is_ that. However," she looked at the "present" the penguin had just left on the table, "I begin to sympathize with Severus about the dunderhead status of Hogwarts students."


	25. New Things

**New Things**

_Draco encounters Hermione soon after the war. Written for the prompt "a brand new start"._

* * *

I found myself frozen in front of the banner with the Ministry's shiny new motto.

I wanted to believe them, with all their heroically good intentions. And admittedly, "a brand new start" had a kind of idealistic ring to it. It's just that I'd left my idealism behind somewhere between watching my parents cringe before a sadistic madman and realizing I actually wanted my side to lose.

Well, they say your N.E.W.T year is difficult. A forlorn half-chuckle choked me before I could stifle it into silence.

"Malfoy?" The voice had so much gentle compassion in it. No wonder she got on so well with the Hufflepuffs these days.

After a moment, I had my own voice under control. "Granger." I was careful not to look at her. My composure could only take so much.

She was silent for several heartbeats, watching me stare at that damned cheery banner. "Draco-"

"I didn't realize we were on a first name basis, Granger."

She brushed off my snark without breaking mental stride. "Perhaps we should be. I remember what you did for Harry."

"You mean _to _Harry, don't you? For years and years."

"_For_ Harry. When it counted. With those Snatchers. Besides, you should know I choose my prepositions with care."

That caused my lips to twitch in something with a passing resemblance to a half-smile. "I do remember those bloody perfect essays of yours."

There was friendly laughter in her voice. "I try to use my verbal powers for good."

That hit a little too close to home. My mood dropped like a stone and I turned to walk away.

"Draco, wait."

I paused mid-step, hoping for something I couldn't even begin to name.

"We have a lot in common, you know."

I turned back to her, arching an eyebrow. "Funny, I don't recall _you_ planning to murder Dumbledore. Or were things more strained on the Light Side than you let on?"

Her eyes were practically incandescent with emotions I saw in the mirror all too often. "You think you were the only child pawn in their stupid, awful game? Think again, you self-centered _prat_."

That shocked a true smile from me. "And _there's _the girl I know from school."

Her smile was positively feral as she slowly extended her hand. "Hermione Granger, witty yet unwitting child soldier in a war I didn't make. Pleased to meet you."

I looked at her hand for a small eternity before taking it and shaking it. "Draco Malfoy, same on both fronts."

"You're witty too?"

"I didn't get top marks outside of Potions on good looks alone, Hermione."

"Good to know, Draco."


	26. In the Light of Day

**In the Light of Day**

_Hermione presents her plan for a new Ministry initiative. Written for the prompt "city on a hill"._

* * *

"_Malfoy_? Why the hell would you want that wanker to be part of anything, let alone this?" Ron's eyes practically glowed with righteous fury.

I closed my eyes briefly. "Ron, I know-"

"He's rotten, Hermione. Always has been, always will be." His mouth thinned with telltale disgust. "You should know that from what happened at Hogwarts."

I felt a migraine beginning behind my left eye. This was an old argument. What was new was that we were having it in front of anyone besides Harry. The rest of the Committee for Public Relations looked on with keen interest.

I fought down the flush that was creeping over my cheeks. _You want stubbornness, sweetheart? I've got it in spades. _"Two words, Ronald: _Child soldier._"

Ron crossed his arms. "A lot of us were that. Doesn't excuse anything."

"Oh, doesn't it? So none of us ever did things we were ashamed of because we had to? Or because it was too hard just then to do otherwise? In, oh, _forests_, perhaps?"

Ron's face turned white. The committee members glanced inquisitively from one to another. Not all the details of our little Golden Trio's time on the run were public knowledge.

I inhaled slowly before speaking. "The things that happened then are in the past. What matters is what happens after. What happens now. And now, I say we need to have a united front to the public. We are, by default, the eponymous 'city upon the hill' that everyone will look to. That's why we have this committee in the first place."

Ron swallowed, unwilling to admit he didn't catch my quote reference. "But Malfoy? Why _him_?"

I steepled my fingers. "As you've noted, he's a representative from the other side, so that's got unity covered. And he's marvelously adept at living under intense scrutiny. If this whole Ministry is going to be in the public eye, he can help us navigate."

Several committee members were nodding thoughtfully.

Ron's jaw was clenched, but he wasn't protesting at least. "How do you know he won't just turn up his ferret-y little nose at our offer?"

_How professional, love. _I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead took another slow breath. "We don't. But if he's as adept as I think he is, he'd be a fool to turn down our offer to rehabilitate the Malfoy name." I caught Ron's troubled gaze. "Or are we too afraid to even ask?"

Ron tapped his fingers against the table, then shook his head. "Fine."

"Good then. I move we present Mr. Draco Malfoy with our offer of being an Under-Secretary for Public Relations. Any opposed?"

Ron said nothing, and the rest of the committee were quiet as mice.

"Excellent. I'll speak to him this afternoon."


End file.
